


I'll Take my Coffee Black (with a little bit of cream)

by kaijoskopycat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Shiro (Voltron), Coffee Shops, College Student Keith (Voltron), Eventual Smut, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, hance as a side couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijoskopycat/pseuds/kaijoskopycat
Summary: When Keith stumbles upon the Voltron Cafe he expects to find a quiet, homey place to study. He doesn't expect a a tall, broad, handsome barista with a smile so bright it can make the blind see and the personality that draws him in from the moment he makes fun of his drink order.





	I'll Take my Coffee Black (with a little bit of cream)

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% self-indulgent. Dipping my toes in the waters of the Voltron fandom because Sheith wrecks me. Hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Many thanks to my better half, [inkandwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandwords), for correcting my mistakes and for liking my Lance. I loved writing him more than I thought I would. Thank you to Maka for reading it over and also telling me where I was going wrong. An extra set of eyes is always a good thing. Especially when I'm apparently blind LOL

His order is memorable.

“Iced coffee. Black. With a little bit of cream.”

Hunk smiles as he takes the order, but doesn't relay it to Shiro. He knows Shiro heard by the way his lips twitch upward. Shiro grabs the jug of iced coffee and fills a cup three quarters of the way. A little extra just to be nice and adds “a little bit of cream” before dumping in a heavy spoonful of ice.

He caps the plastic cup and swirls the coffee until it turns a dark, caramel brown. 

“You know,” he turns to grab a straw before extending the coffee toward the young man who ordered it. “Black coffee generally means… black.”

He grins as he finally looks up and the cup nearly slips from his grasp because _wow, he’s cute._

The young man with dark, shaggy hair ( _is that a mullet?_ ) scowls at him as he jerks the straw out of Shiro's hand. His eyes flash, the steely grey (is there a hint of purple in there?) catching the light as he says, “No one else seemed confused by my order.”

Shiro’s eyes flicker to Hunk who is smiling and chatting away with Lance, a frequent customer who has easily become one of their good friends. 

“He’s too nice to say anything,” Shiro replies with a smile.

“And you're too rude not to?” the young man retorts, taking a sip of the coffee. He doesn't hand it back to Shiro in disgust so Shiro notches one point on his scorecard for not pissing off the attractive customer. 

Shiro chuckles. “Touché.” With a shake of his head, the young man moves to turn away when Shiro adds, “I don't think I caught your name. Hunk didn't give me an order slip.”

The young man’s eyes narrow. He looks Shiro over and, even though a good majority of that deep glare exudes hostility, Shiro can tell there’s a hint of curiosity. It’s enough to get an answer out of him.

“Keith.”

Shiro grins. “Takashi Shirogane.” He extends a hand, surprised when Keith takes it. Not surprised that his grip is strong, impressive. “Everyone calls me Shiro.”

Keith’s brow rises. “All your friends, you mean.”

“Well,” Shiro shrugs and grabs the next order slip that Hunk passes his way. “You can, too.”

Keith doesn't respond, but he doesn't move away from the counter as Shiro busies himself with the next order. As he swirls the steamed milk into a tea latte he glances up to see Keith watching him. He smiles, letting his tongue peek out between his teeth. 

The reaction he gets is priceless. Color rises to Keith’s cheeks, clearly against his will, and he turns away, taking a seat and staring out the window instead. 

Shiro chuckles softly to himself as he hands the customer her drink and moves about behind the counter, cleaning the mess he’s left behind. 

He knows Keith is watching him. Knows he’s gotten up to approach the counter.

“Why…”

Shiro glances up. Keith’s expression is difficult to read, guarded in a way Shiro understands, but somehow more open than he must intend it to be. He’s still curious, that much is obvious. And, for some reason, Shiro is more than willing to quench that curiosity. 

“You don't even know me. Why would you tell me to call you that?”

Shiro lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “You're right. I don't know you.” He smiles sheepishly, knowing he’ll get questioned by Hunk and Lance later for what he's about to say and not caring. This feels worth it. “But if you plan on coming back then I plan on getting to know you.”

Keith’s eyes widen. The color returns to his cheeks, the scowl to his lips. “I have to go,” he mutters, turning around so quickly Shiro’s surprised he doesn’t knock himself over. “But…” Keith pauses. He glances over his shoulder, catching Shiro’s eye. “The coffee was good. I… might have to get it again.”

A wide grin splits across Shiro’s lips as the bell on the door rings to signal Keith’s exit. Before he has the time to fully process the encounter, Lance is in front of him, smirking, his eyes darting toward the door. He’s mastered the suggestive eyebrow raise. It's almost comical. 

“Flirt much?” He asks, gesturing toward the entrance with a jerk of his head. “You sure were giving it to Mr. Mullet Head over here.”

“Lance,” Shiro tuts softly. “If I were really giving it to him I’d be arrested for public indecency.”

Lance whoops and turns toward Hunk, a wild grin spreading across his lips. “Did you hear him? He just made an inappropriate joke!”

“Shiro…” Hunk sighs and runs the palm of his hand down his face. “Don't encourage him.”

Shiro smiles and shakes his head. “It was too good to pass up.”

“You're terrible.”

“Okay,” Lance slams his hands on the counter between Shiro and Hunk. “But on to more important matters. The guy--”

“Keith,” Shiro supplies, unable to suppress a smile.

“You got a name,” Hunk whispers, his eyes wide.

“Did you get a number?” Lance asks, his eyebrows waggling so hard Shiro swears they could fly off his face.

“No,” Shiro chuckles. “I'm not that good.”

Lance snorts. “Have you seen yourself?”

Shiro ignores him. It's an everyday “argument” about Shiro’s supposed good looks. He knows Lance is only being nice because they're friends. 

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Hunk asks, his eyes roaming over the customers in the café. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says, his smile widening as he remembers the blush on Keith’s cheeks, the compliment to his coffee skills. “I think he will.”

* * *

 

When Keith returns, Shiro doesn't notice. Not because he isn't looking (because he has been for the past few days), but because they're so busy he doesn't even look up when the bell on the door rings.

He’s aware of the small group of people congregating at the edge of the counter, waiting for their coffee. He's aware of the steadily growing stack of orders, papers he hasn't even had the chance to look at yet. He can hear Hunk taking orders from the people at the register, being his usual friendly, charismatic self. He can also hear Lance in the crowd, talking just loud enough for Shiro to make out a thing here or there. 

It’s Lance who makes him aware of Keith’s presence. 

Shiro slides a trio of chai lattes onto the counter to the three young women who stand before him, smiling bright and fluttering their lashes in a way he adamantly ignores. As he turns to the next order, he hears Lance say, “You didn't leave him your number? I think that mullet of yours is sucking out some of your brain cells. Have you looked at him?” Shiro’s eyes widen and he groans internally. “But I mean _really_ looked at him…”

Shiro places a few more orders on the counter and skims the crowd. He catches sight of Keith, his eyes narrowed as Lance continues. Lance is clearly unwanted company. The noise of the crowd has risen now and Shiro can't hear what Lance is saying. He doesn't think Keith wants to hear it either. 

With a frown, Shiro glances at Hunk who catches his eye. His brow rises, but as soon as he sees Lance in the crowd and the victim of his chattering, he understands. He takes the order of the last person in line, a reprieve finally showing its head after nearly two hours of nonstop customer traffic. Hunk belts across the room to get Lance’s attention.

“Lance! You wanna earn yourself some spending money?”

Shiro is too busy garnishing a pair of lattes with a sprinkling of cinnamon to see Lance’s reaction, but he knows any mention of money is music to Lance’s ears. 

“Put me to work, boss!” Lance exclaims, nudging Hunk’s side as he grins.

Besides the dusting of pink across his cheeks, Hunk keeps his composure and directs Lance to Shiro’s side. “You wanna finish up these orders so Shiro can take a break?”

Shiro opens his mouth to protest, but Lance cuts him off, stepping in front of him as Hunk adds, “He’s actually pretty good at this.”

Lance snorts, “Pretty good? I'm a coffee connoisseur.”

Hunk grins. “Do you even know what that word means?”

“Yeah, man,” Lance scowls at him as he sets about working on the next order in line. “I looked it up this morning. Gimme some credit here for trying to impress you.”

Shiro skirts around Hunk and the deep red blush on his cheeks. He pours a glass of iced coffee and adds a little cream before giving Hunk an encouraging pat on the back and quietly thanking him. He pulls his apron over his head and hangs it on the wall beside the saloon-style door that leads behind the counter and heads into the crowd. 

Keith somehow managed to snag the most popular table by the window in this hectic throng of people. Shiro notices with mild satisfaction that the seat across from him is still empty. Usually people put their negative feelings about human interaction aside and ask for a seat with a stranger. Keith appears to be exempt from the shuffle, likely by his own choice judging by the glares he levels at people who glance at the empty seat.

Without asking for permission first, Shiro slides into the seat across from him as he gently places the glass of iced coffee on the table. “Mind if I take this seat?”

Keith blinks at him, his eyes flickering to the coffee and back up again. “Even if I did, I doubt you’d move.”

“Mm,” Shiro shakes his head and pushes the iced coffee closer to Keith. “I'm actually a pretty good listener and I follow orders well. So if you asked me to leave… I would.” Shiro smiles, silently patting himself on the back for the small twitch of Keith’s lips. “But I brought your favorite drink and I have a small break, so I hope you won't turn me away because this is how I want to spend it.”

Keith flushes and eyes the drink in front of him. “Thanks…” he mutters as he reaches out to drag the glass toward him. 

“Black.” Shiro says. Keith narrows his eyes over the rim of the glass. Shiro grins and adds, “With a little bit of cream.”

“Are you going to bring that up every time?”

Shiro perks up. “ _Every time_?” 

Keith glances out the window and Shiro notices the blush has moved to the tips of his ears. He’s tempted to reach out, to brush a finger over the flushed skin. But he doesn't. Technically he’s still on the job and he's only met Keith once before. Judging by his frowny exterior, he doesn't think Keith would welcome the contact. 

“Are you always this forward?” Keith asks, glancing at Shiro out of the corner of his eye. 

Shiro smiles, unashamed. “I've learned that life doesn't always give you second chances.” He lifts his right hand covered in a thin glove and tugs it off finger by finger. Keith’s eyes widen when the silver sheen of the metal prosthetic comes into view. “Yeah,” Shiro runs his fingers across the back of his hand. “Prosthetic.” He flexes his metal fingers. “Works like a real hand though.”

“I--” Keith shakes his head. “Why are you showing me this? You don't even… I’m--”

“I guess I feel like you're trustworthy. Like you won't judge me for a flaw like this.” Shiro shrugs. “I've learned not to take things for granted. If you decided to never come back, I wouldn't regret meeting you. I won't regret sitting here right now.” 

“Shiro…”

A smile spreads across Shiro’s lips as his heart jumps in his chest. “Oh, you said my name.”

“That’s…” Keith rolls his eyes and looks away. “That's a dumb thing to be happy about.” 

“I don't know,” Shiro glances at the counter. “I've seen Lance get excited over a chip in a mug. That kinda tops mine, don't you think?”

Keith scowls, glaring in Lance’s general direction. “Anything that idiot gets excited about is dumb.”

Shiro chuckles. “So you know him?”

“We go to class together.” Keith nearly chokes on the word together. Like it's such a terrible thing to say. 

“So you're both studying…” Shiro tilts his head, trying to remember what Lance had told him. 

“Aeronautics,” Keith supplies. 

“Pilots,” Shiro adds with a nod of his head. He remembers now. It's the reason Lance wears a watch with an airplane face that Shiro has teased him about on numerous occasions. 

“Yeah. I just…” Keith runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “Lance has it all figured out. Knows what airline he wants to work for and all that. I don't really know. I don't think I want to fly commercially.”

Shiro’s smile softens. “You just love it.”

Keith’s lips twitch into a hint of a smile. He nods. As he opens his mouth to speak, Hunk’s voice rings out across the café.

“Mayday! Mayday! We need the real coffee connoisseur up here.”

“Hey!” Lance shouts in protest.

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. The break wasn't nearly long enough. He didn't have enough time to really enjoy Keith, to learn more. But every little bit counts, he thinks. And now he knows one thing.

_Keith will make an amazing pilot._

“Guess that means I gotta go.”

Keith nods. “Guess so.” As Shiro stands Keith says, “Wait…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I have to pay you for the coffee.”

“No, I've got it this time.”

“But--”

Shiro reaches out, placing a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Just tell me I can see you again.” 

Keith’s eyes widen. He presses his palm against his face. Likely to hide the blush, Shiro suspects. 

“You're too blunt. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Shiro laughs. “A few times.” He leans forward, his face level with Keith’s. “Say you’ll see me again. Outside of here. There's a museum. You may like it.”

Keith scrunches his nose. “A museum?”

“Say yes.” Shiro’s voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper. 

Keith holds his gaze for a moment before he finally says, “Fine.” He grabs Shiro’s hand, pulling it off his shoulder. But his touch lingers for a moment before he pulls away. “Yes, I'll go with you.”

Shiro grins. “Saturday evening?”

“Okay…” Keith traces a finger around the rim of his glass of iced coffee. “Saturday evening.”

Shiro knows what his mind will be on for the rest of the day. He doesn't quite know what it is that draws him to Keith, but it's strong. He hasn't smiled this much in a long time.

When he steps behind the counter he sees the smirk on Lance’s face. He rolls his eyes, despite the smile on his lips and says, “Move over, _connoisseur_. Let the pro show you how it’s done.”

* * *

 

Shiro doesn't know if he’ll show up. 

Keith had come to the cafe yesterday morning, ordered his usual iced coffee and had confirmed the plans with Shiro. The fact that Keith had been the one to reach out still brings a smile to Shiro’s lips as he leans against the corner of a bench in the middle of the park not far from the museum.

He wants the museum itself to be a surprise. Except now he realizes that he doesn't know which way Keith is coming from. He could easily pass the museum on his way to meet Shiro at the park. 

Shiro drags his fingers through his hair and sighs at himself. 

“I wasn't that late…”

Shiro jumps and whirls around to find Keith standing in the middle of the bike path. His hair looks disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his chest rapidly rising and falling like he ran here. He hugs his red, leather jacket around his middle and shuffles his white sneakered feet as he frowns at Shiro.

The sight of him looking so scorned and bashful makes Shiro’s heart skip a beat. 

“You're actually right on time,” Shiro says, his face breaking into a smile. “I promise I wasn't sighing at you.” He takes a step forward and beckons Keith to follow. 

Falling into step beside him, Keith glances around. “Were you sighing at someone else?” His eyes cut to Shiro’s face. “An imaginary friend, maybe?”

Shiro chuckles. Keith is teasing him. He’s glad he's comfortable enough to do so. “Well, if it was, they’d certainly pale in comparison to my current company.”

Keith buries his hands in his jacket pockets and glances away. “Blunt…” he mutters with a shake of his head. 

Shiro’s smile widens as they turn the corner at the end of the bike path. They make their way to the museum in silence, but it's an amicable silence. At least for Shiro it is. 

When they're close enough, he pauses and steps in front of Keith. Keith blinks up at him, his brow cocked in question. 

“I…” Shiro glances over his shoulder. “I want you to close your eyes.”

“You…” Keith stares at him. “You’re serious?”

Shiro nods. “I promise you can trust me.” He reaches out and presses a tentative hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

If there’s one thing that Shiro appreciates, it's the way Keith doesn't seem to back down from a stare when it matters most. His eyes flicker back and forth between Shiro’s, debating, until he finally nods. 

“Okay. I trust you.” 

When Keith closes his eyes Shiro let’s out a quiet breath of relief. “I'm going to step around you and touch your shoulders to guide you. Okay?”

Keith nods again. 

Shiro places his hands on Keith’s upper arms, slowly dragging them upward to brace against his shoulders. He gently urges him forward, step by careful step. 

“Stairs,” Shiro says. He taps the back of Keith’s foot with his own and Keith lifts his leg. When he wobbles, Shiro presses closer against his back. “I've got you,” he breathes.

“Okay,” Keith breathes back, tilting ever so slightly against Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro silently hopes he can't hear his heartbeat as he counts out the steps. “Three, four, and five.” He steadies Keith when they reach the top, presses him forward a few more steps before he moves around him to pull open the door. “Take four more steps forward, and open your eyes.”

Keith gasps just as Shiro is closing the door behind him. “Shiro… this is--”

Air Force uniforms decorate the walls, standing in casings all around them. Various headgear are mounted on tables, surrounded by carefully placed medals of decoration, maps of flight patterns. 

“An aviation museum,” Shiro confirms as he steps up beside Keith. “My father used to come here,” he tells Keith with a soft smile. “It was his favorite place.”

“Was?”

“He passed away when I was seventeen,” Shiro leans against Keith’s shoulder, a gentle nudge when he notices the mournful look in his eyes. “It's okay. He was suffering. It was better that way.”

He’s grateful when Keith doesn't ask him to elaborate. Surprised even when Keith’s hand settles on his back and rubs in a brief, soothing circle. 

“My old man left us,” Keith admits softly. “Don't know why. Mom says he was a deadbeat, but I don't remember him that way.”

Encouraged, Shiro slides an arm around Keith’s shoulders and guides him around the room. “Maybe he wasn't… to you.” 

Keith glances away, tips his head forward in the hint of a nod. 

“There's another part of this place I want to show you,” Shiro says. He lets his arm fall from Keith’s shoulders and extends his hand. “Even better than this room.”

He can see the way Keith hesitates, but Shiro doesn't pull away. He’s patient. He can wait. 

“Better?” Keith glances up, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. 

“Much better,” Shiro replies, a wide grin spreading across his face when Keith places his hand in his. He tugs, and Keith - clearly surprised by the action - stumbles into his chest. Shiro squeezes his hand and steps back. “Downstairs?”

“There’s a downstairs?” Keith asks, even as they descend the staircase off to their left. 

“They keep the cool stuff down here.”

“I thought it was pretty cool upstairs.”

Shiro chuckles. “Just wait till you--”

“Holy shit.”

Shiro beams as Keith gapes at the jet fighter before him. Dark blue in color, the nose looks similar to a bullet, the sleek body disturbed only by the dome of the window. The collapsible wings are folded upward to save space and it balances precariously on three wheels. 

“That's…”

“One hell of a jet?”

Keith glances at Shiro, his eyes wide. “An FH-1 Phantom.” 

Shiro blinks, surprised. “I…” His eyes flicker to the sign on the wall beside the jet. A sign he hadn't seen Keith look at. “Right. Yeah, a Phantom.”

Keith turns back toward the jet. He takes one half step forward, pulling Shiro along with him. “It was the Navy’s first fighter jet. First to ever land on an aircraft carrier. Two engines, guns, rockets, maximum speed of 479 miles per hour at sea level.”

They're standing right in front of the jet now. Shiro can see Keith’s other hand itching to reach out toward it. 

“You can touch it.”

“It didn't last long,” Keith continues. “Technology easily outpaced it, but it was the first.” He carefully presses the palm of his hand against the nose of the jet and smiles. “It really is an impressive piece of machinery.”

Shiro squeezes his hand, watching Keith’s face light up, his expression soften. “Impressive…” Shiro echoes with a soft smile.

* * *

 

When Keith walks into the cafe-- _Shiro’s_ cafe, as he’s come to know it--his iced coffee (black, with a little bit of cream, as Shiro likes to constantly remind him) is waiting for him at the end of the counter. Hunk smiles at him and pushes it forward, busy with another customer. He nods a thank you, takes the cup and slowly makes his way across the room to the table he has come to claim as his own. 

As he lowers himself into his seat (the one on the left side of the table, the right one is Shiro’s), he can’t stop himself from glancing at the empty space behind the espresso machine. Did Shiro take his break already? Or was he grabbing inventory from the backroom? He strains his neck, trying to see down the hallway that heads to the door of their backroom. It’s empty until Lance bursts through the door, small bags of coffee beans balanced in his arms. 

Keith’s eyes widen as they meet Lance’s. _What the…_

“Keith!” Lance shouts, nearly toppling to the floor as he stumbles forward. 

“Lance,” Hunk sighs as he hands a drink he made off to the customer. The bell rings as she exits, leaving the cafe blissfully empty except for Keith. “Please don’t drop what’s left of the coffee. I haven’t had the chance to put in the order for more yet.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Lance continues, smirking off Hunk’s reprimand. He dumps the bags of coffee unceremoniously on the counter and leaps over them to make his way toward Keith, ignoring a groan from Hunk in the background. 

“You work here?” Keith asks, his brow twitching when Lance drops into the seat that belongs to Shiro. 

“You’re looking at the newest team member of the Voltron Coffee House.” He tugs on the blue apron laying loosely over his chest. “I’m blue!”

Keith rolls his eyes and sips at his coffee, his gaze flickering toward the back hallway again. 

“You won’t see him come out of there,” Lance says. 

When Keith looks at him again, he sees Lance frown in Hunk’s direction. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Lance.” Hunk makes his way around the counter. “You could be a little more delicate about it.” He pulls a chair up to the side of the table and sits beside Keith. “Don’t make it sound like he’s never coming back.”

“I didn’t say that!” Lance protests.

Keith scowls at both of them. 

“Keith, don’t listen to him.” Hunk turns to him and offers a half smile. “Shiro just… he had to run home for a few days.” He rubs a hand across his nape. “Family problems.”

“Family problems?” Keith echoes. “He had to run home?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Those words make something seize in Keith’s chest. No, Shiro did not tell him whatever Hunk is about to share with him. It doesn’t sit well with him and he’s not quite sure why. It’s not like he even knows Shiro that well. It’s not like they’re _dating._

Are they? He's gone on his fair share of “dates” with Shiro, been frequenting the cafe for the past half a year. They never named it, whatever they were. They've never even kissed. But Keith likes to believe they're at least good friends.

“Shiro’s mom lives over in Arizona.” Hunk explains when Keith doesn’t respond. “She didn’t want to stay here after his dad passed away.”

“Shiro was legal by then,” Lance adds. “and he was going to school here in Texas so…” He shrugs. 

“He drives out there every so often to see her, but mostly when…” Hunk tapers off, his eyes flickering toward Lance. For permission?

Lance shakes his head. 

“I…” Hunk sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He smiles sheepishly. “I really think this is stuff that Shiro should be telling you. He should be back tomorrow.”

So Keith comes back tomorrow.

And the next day. 

The day after that Lance sits with him because he's not “on duty”, as he keeps calling it. Keith shoves his face away every time he leans in too close to whisper it conspiratorially as though it's a supposed to be a secret. 

“People have seen you behind the counter, dumbass,” Keith growls as he tries, in vain, to focus on the physics homework in front of him. “You're not a secret agent.”

Lance wiggles his brows and winks at Hunk who stands at the counter watching them. Even from across the room Keith can see the color rise to Hunk’s cheeks and he can't help but feel a little annoyed. Or jealous, maybe? 

He shakes his head and grumbles the next line of the paragraph in his book to himself. There's no way it's jealousy. 

“Shiro hired me because of my connoisseuring skills. But I never said I was just a coffee connoisseur.”

“Connoisseur isn't a verb, dumbass. You aren't ‘connoisseuring’.”

“How do you know that? Are you hiding these educational secrets in that mullet of yours?”

Keith levels a glare at him. “Pick up a damn dictionary and find out for yourself.”

Lance clicks his tongue and waves him off with an errant comment of, “You're just mad cause Shiro is still gone.”

Keith’s pen falls out of his hand and Lance’s face pales. Keith can see the immediate regret in Lance’s features, but it doesn't make the comment hit home any less. 

“Shit, man, I didn't mean--”

Slamming his book shut, Keith gathers his things and stands abruptly. The sound of the chair screeching across the floor startles Hunk into saying, “Whoa there. What's wrong, Keith?”

“I'm leaving.”

He regrets his sudden retreat as he’s stomping down the block. Hates that the comment still stings. Hates even more that worry festers in the pit of his stomach. 

Hates Shiro for not telling him, for not being in the cafe, for not answering his texts. 

But he doesn't hate Shiro at all. And that's what Keith hates the most.

* * *

 

Despite his cowardly exit the day before, Keith still goes to the cafe the next day. But the moment he walks inside and sees Shiro smiling at a young woman as he hands her a mug of coffee he turns and walks right out the door, ignoring the shout of, “Keith?” that follows his retreat. 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

“Keith, wait!”

Keith walks faster. _Stop following me, idiot._

“Keith!” 

Shiro’s voice is right behind him now. They're drawing the attention of others on the street and Keith can feel a blush creeping up to the tips of his ears. 

Groaning internally, he reaches back and grabs Shiro’s hand, pulling him into the nearest alleyway. 

“Keith, what is going on? You just ran out and I didn't get to--”

Keith gasps when he finally glances up at Shiro’s face. A bruise, dark and splotchy, spreads from the bottom corner of Shiro’s left eye and across his cheekbone. There's a red mark on his neck that looks eerily like fingers and when Keith takes in the rest of him, he notices that the knuckles of Shiro’s right hand are stained a deep purple, the skin split.

“Ah…” Shiro rubs at his nape with his right hand and smiles half heartedly. “I’m guessing I don't look as charmingly handsome as before, huh?”

Keith doesn't even respond to the tease. He lifts a hand, almost subconsciously, his fingers hovering over the bruise on Shiro’s cheek. “What happened?”

As he stares at Shiro’s face, he almost can't remember what he looks like without the bruise. The time that lapsed between them catches up to him and his shock is instantly replaced with anger. Anger toward the person who did this to Shiro. Anger at himself for not knowing why, for not knowing that this could've happened. Anger at Shiro for not telling him.

In his fury, he shoves his hands against Shiro’s chest. Shiro rocks back, eyes wide.

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?” he snarls, throwing his arms out for another shove. 

Shiro doesn't try to stop him. “I-- it was so last minute, Keith. I had to leave right at that moment. I didn't get the chance to--”

“Then why the hell didn't you answer me?” Keith is shaking now. “You ignored _all_ my texts. Hunk knew. Even _Lance_ knew! But you didn't--”

“Keith…” Shiro’s brows furrow and he takes a step forward, pausing when Keith holds up a hand. 

“Don't…” His voice is low, warning. “Why didn't you answer me?”

“My phone died,” Shiro says with a frown. “I forgot my charger at home in my hurry to leave.”

“Bullshit.”

Shiro pulls his phone out of his pocket and offers it to Keith. It's an old flip phone. 

Keith hesitates before snatching it out of his hand. When he tries to turn it on, the screen remains black. Satisfied, he tosses it back to Shiro. 

“You need a new phone,” Keith mutters after a beat of silence.

Shiro’s lips twitch. “It's more reliable than your smartphone.”

“Doubt it.” Keith takes a step back. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I still don't understand. You left last minute for family problems. Fine. But you never told me… you never told me anything. I don't know why you had to leave so suddenly, why you came back with bruises… someone hurt you and all I can think about is ripping their fucking head off and--”

Shiro catches his hands that he didn't realize he had been using to gesture wildly as he spoke and pulls him in against his chest. Keith struggles, but Shiro only holds him tighter. With a resigned sigh he relaxes and listens as Shiro’s deep voice rumbles against him. 

“My mother’s fiancé is… a piece of work,” Shiro says quietly. “She couldn't handle Dad’s death so she went to see a well-known therapist in Arizona and she stayed out there.” 

Keith picks a stain on Shiro’s apron as he listens.

“She met some guy, seemed pretty nice at first.” He feels Shiro shrug. “Said he loved her, wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. She hadn't felt like that in a while and I think she was just craving the company. Company like dad had given her.”

Shiro sighs and tentatively lowers his chin on top of Keith’s head. When Keith doesn't protest, he continues. “Turns out the guy liked money a lot more than my mom and Dad had a hell of a lot of money stashed away. The guy got verbally abusive first. Mom would call me crying and I’d come driving over, give him a piece of my mind and everything would seem… it would seem better.”

Keith doesn't need to hear the rest to understand. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist and presses his face against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro lifts a hand to brush the hair out of Keith’s face and tilts his chin back. “Mom might hate me for it, but I'm hoping he stays away from her now.”

Keith reaches up and this time he lets himself touch, lets his fingers brush gently across the bruise that mars Shiro’s perfect face. 

“If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy.” Shiro smiles, pressing his forehead against Keith’s.

Keith snorts softly and rolls his eyes. “You're an idiot.”

“Mm,” Shiro hums in agreement before he presses his lips against Keith’s.

The kiss is gentle at first, just a small spark between them. Then Keith slides his arms around Shiro’s neck and parts his lips when he feels the tentative press of Shiro’s tongue to split them. And _god_ , does Shiro know how to work that tongue.

Keith trembles, a low groan rumbling up from deep within him. Shiro’s hand travels down his back, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath Keith’s loose, black t-shirt to brush at the skin on his lower back. It sends jolts of electricity up Keith’s spine, has him pressing himself against every inch of Shiro’s body. 

It's like they're pieces of a machine, each one half to make the whole. 

When Shiro pulls away to breathe, Keith pulls back enough to watch the haze clear from Shiro’s eyes. The mischievous light in them that drew Keith in from the beginning returns and Shiro grins at him. 

“Wow,” he breathes, brushing his thumb across Keith’s cheek. “Maybe I should disappear like this more often.”

Keith scowls. “Not funny, Shiro.”

* * *

 

The cafe is busy, but that's okay. Keith arrives early enough to get his usual table by the window, glares his way through the customers to avoid anyone taking the seat across from him. 

He watches Shiro work, watches him move effortlessly behind the counter, watches him smile and interact with the customers. He's a natural. A people person where Keith is not. 

Keith likes watching him work. 

He also likes having the table to himself when Shiro is busy. But Lance, who has a day off, assumes the open seat is his for the taking. No amount of dirty looks will make him leave. 

“You haven't listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”

Keith sighs heavily and finally turns to face Lance. 

“You were going on about your failures in cockpit procedure training.”

Lance has the gall to look outraged. “Failures? Do I look like a failure to you?”

“Is that a trick question?” Keith deadpans as he nods.

“I happen to be an expert at cockpit handling.” Lance wags his eyebrows. His tongue pokes out between his teeth. 

“I said cockpit procedures, not--”

“But you get what I mean, right?” Lance smirks.

Keith grimaces and looks away. His eyes land on Shiro who laughs at something Hunk says. Color rises to Keith’s cheeks. 

“Bet you're pretty good at it yourself, huh, Kogane?”

“I'm not talking about this with you.”

Lance’s chair screeches backward as he nearly throws himself across the table. “Wait… so there _are_ things to talk about?”

Keith backs away, eyes wide. “Get off the table.”

Lance snorts and falls back into his chair. “Just give me the deets, mullet man. It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone.”

“There's nothing to tell.” Keith frowns. His eyes flicker toward Shiro. 

“I call bullshit,” Lance grins. He gestures toward Shiro with a twitch of his elbow. “You've got a crush.”

Keith purses his lips and glares. 

“You aren't the only one,” Lance admits with a shrug. “I think everyone who’s met Shiro has had a crush on him.”

Something roils in Keith’s stomach. He ignores it. 

“Too bad for everyone else he only has eyes for a certain douchebag who hasn't realized mullets went out of style hundreds of years ago.”

Keith pretends he doesn't feel the flush on his cheeks and glares. “Will you just--”

“I mean… it's pretty obvious from that love bite on your neck that--”

The slap draws the attention of the people around them, but Keith is glad he smacked his hand over his own neck because he knows exactly what “bite” Lance is talking about. 

Lance snickers. “And you said there was nothing to tell.”

“There’s not,” Keith counters. “This is from the flight simulation seat belts. You know how those cut in.”

Lance snorts. “Wow. You came up with that one pretty quickly.” 

Keith resists the urge to look at Shiro. He had assumed the collar of his jacket, which he has yet to take off since he sat down, would have covered the mark. Apparently it doesn't.

That or Lance has suddenly developed the ability to see through clothing. Gross. 

“I didn't have to come up with anything. This isn't from… it’s flight simulation.”

“Eh.” Lance shrugs. His eyes skim down Keith’s neck, making him feel far more exposed than he's ever felt. “Who can blame a guy though? Long pale neck… long dark hair... you're like a vampire’s wet dream.”

Keith grimaces. “Shiro isn't a vampire.”

“Ha!” Lance slams a hand against the table top and points accusingly at Keith’s face. “I knew it! You just admitted it was Shiro!”

Heat rises to Keith’s cheeks, both embarrassed and furious. “What the fuck is your--”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Lance lifts a finger between them and tips it back and forth. “Can't take it back now!” He tips back into his chair and crosses his arms. Keith wants nothing more than to slap the smug grin off his face. 

“I don't get you,” he hisses, pulling up the collar of his shirt. “None of this is any of your damn business.” 

“You've become a part of this place,” Lance explains. Keith’s eyes scan the cafe. Hunk’s gracious demeanor, his soothing voice. Shiro’s easy laughter, his gentle smile. The homey atmosphere of the cafe. The warm, earthy taste of the coffee. He realizes, belatedly, that he has become a fixture in this place as much as Lance has, as much as Shiro or Hunk. 

“What’s your point?”

“Everything is everyone’s business,” Lance grins. “Besides, Shiro doesn't have to say anything to spill the beans. It’s written all over his face.”

Keith’s eyes widen. When he glances toward the counter he catches Shiro's eyes. Shiro offers a half smile and a shrug, managing to look apologetic even though Keith can't see an ounce of shame in his eyes. 

With a sigh, he runs his hand down his face and shakes his head. “Is Hunk the only one around here who isn't a pervert?” he mutters. 

Lance snorts. “You should see where he leaves marks on me.” His eyes widen the moment he finishes the sentence and the red on his cheeks gives his tanned skin a sun kissed hue.

Keith is just as speechless. He can see Hunk out of the corner of his eye refilling the change in the register, completely oblivious to his own secret being spilled. 

“Shit…” Lance runs his fingers through his hair and looks, surprisingly, embarrassed. Keith suspects it's not about his relationship with Hunk and more about his gall to tease Keith about secrets when he’s keeping one of his own.

“Since… when?”

Lance’s lips twitch. “Since none of your business.”

Keith sneers and throws Lance’s line back at him. “Everything is everyone’s business.”

Neither one of them speaks. Keith ducks further into the collar of his shirt, scowling. Lance stares pointedly out the window, his eyes away from Keith and as far away from landing on Hunk as possible. 

“Oi, sulk masters over there!”

Hunk’s voice draws Keith’s attention. It’s only when he looks up that he notices the cafe is empty save for the two of them at the table and Shiro and Hunk behind the counter. He slowly pushes his chair back, the sound breaking Lance out of his reverie, and they both make their way up to the counter. 

“Figured you’d want some coffee after braving the crowd,” Shiro says with a grin, placing two iced coffees in front of them. 

“You look like you've both seen a ghost,” Hunk says with a half smile. “Or Professor Coran naked.”

Lance shudders. “Nah, man.” He grabs the coffee and loudly slurps it through the straw. “Just sharing some secret tricks of the trade.”

Shiro makes his way around the counter to stand beside Keith. He ruffles his hair and smiles at him. Keith curses his heart for skipping a beat. 

“If the trade makes you look like this you might want to reconsider.” Shiro nudges Keith’s side, earning himself a withering glare. Shiro lifts his hands in surrender and says, “Just a suggestion.”

“Still trying to convince him to join the shop?” Hunk asks as he draws a shark in the side of Lance’s cup. 

“Just a selfish wish of mine,” Shiro says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know being a pilot is important to him. I would never get in the way of his dream.”

Keith takes a sip of his coffee and smiles inwardly. _Cheesy_ , he thinks. He likes it.

* * *

 

“Shiro, are you sure this is—“

Keith gasps when Shiro lifts him off the ground, guiding his legs around his waist. He easily maneuvers them down the back hallway of the Voltron Cafe, shouldering open a door to his right. 

“Always protesting,” Shiro mumbles, peppering kisses up the side of Keith’s neck. 

Keith snorts and slides his fingers across the short bristles of hair at Shiro’s nape.

“Everyone else went home,” Shiro explains, tightening his grip around Keith’s waist and freeing one hand to shove paperwork off a stack of boxes. “Told them I’d be working a little late in the back. Inventory and whatnot.”

“Ah…” Keith arches against him when he’s pressed against the boxes. “Idiot…” he mutters, pulling Shiro’s mouth up to his. “They’re gonna know.”

“Mm…” Shiro dips his tongue between Keith’s lips. Keith jumps when it flicks against the roof of his mouth. “Lance does have quite a dirty mind, doesn’t he?”

Keith slides his hands higher, giving Shiro’s short hair a tug. “Don’t talk about Lance with your tongue in my mouth.”

Shiro chuckles, the deep sound washing over Keith like a caress. It makes him shiver.

“I’ll put my mouth to work elsewhere then.” 

The next kiss is quick, a tease. Keith can feel Shiro smiling against his lips before he pulls away. He lowers himself to his knees, his hands already working at the zipper of Keith’s jeans.

The gentle caress across his cock, even over the thin fabric of his boxers, brings a groan from his lips. He drops his head back, tipping his hips forward in encouragement. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of how eager you are,” Shiro breathes as he eases Keith’s bottoms down his thighs, pulling them off to toss them unceremoniously on the floor. 

“Only for you,” Keith mutters, cut short by a sharp breath when Shiro’s mouth closes around him.

Keith forgets to breathe, forgets to think past the brilliant bursts of pleasure that blind him even with his eyes squeezed shut. Shiro’s mouth drags wet friction across his cock. His hands brace against Keith’s inner thighs. His thumb traces the smooth skin at the juncture of thigh and hip. Each caress makes his hips jump and Shiro is forced to pull back until only his breath is tickling Keith’s skin.

“Shit,” Keith wheezes, his fingers digging into the top of the box. He doesn’t wonder what’s inside, but whatever it is, it’s sturdy as hell.

Shiro slowly makes his way back to his feet, his hands massaging into Keith’s thighs. 

“Do you have—“

“Jean pocket,” Keith whispers, reaching an arm forward to pull Shiro in for another kiss.

Shiro grins and takes the kiss Keith is offering, deepening it as he reaches back to grab Keith’s pants off the grond and digs his hand in Keith’s pocket. He lifts the small bottle of lube and the condom up near their faces, brandishing them at Keith. “Eager,” he chuckles.

Keith snorts. “I’m not an idiot, Shiro.” He grabs the bottle from Shiro’s grasp and pops open the cap. “You told me not to come in until _after_ Hunk and Lance leave.”

Shiro closes one hand around Keith’s and helps him tilt the bottle to pour it over the fingers of Shiro’s other hand. “Maybe I just wanted to make you coffee.”

He pulls his hand back, dropping it between Keith’s legs. The first tentative press is cold and makes Keith hiss and tilt his hips back.

“Coffee would’ve been warmer,” Keith retorts, his voice strained as the tip of Shiro’s finger circles his entrance. 

“Ouch,” Shiro snorts. “Give me a chance to warm you up, baby.” He slips a finger in.

Keith immediately clenches down on the intrusion and groans. He curses himself for how much it sounds like a whine, but he wants this. _Needs_ this. Shiro had just returned from a week home with his mother and Keith had been, blessedly, distracted by midterms.

But the tension of midterms lingered after they were done and Shiro didn’t return until 2 days later. _Eager is right_ , Keith thinks. He’s already rocking his hips into Shiro’s hand when a second finger slips in.

“Fuck,” Keith growls, reaching out to drag Shiro’s face forward. He rakes his fingers across the small hairs at Shiro’s nape and releases a tight breath.

“Shit, Keith,” Shiro breathes. His eyes are blown wide, flickering down Keith’s body. Drinking him in. “God, I—“ he dips his tongue into Keith’s mouth as he adds a third finger. “I’ve _missed_ you.”

A shudder rushes down Keith’s spine and he’s ready. He knows he’s ready. Doesn’t want to wait any longer than he already has. 

“Shiro…” he pulls back, breaks the kiss and runs his tongue across his swollen lips. “It’s enough… I—“

“Mm,” Shiro hums as he nods in agreement, slowly pulling his fingers out of Keith to step back and hastily undo his slacks. 

He’s slipped the condom on and moved to step forward when Keith stops him with a hand on his chest. 

“This angle…” he frowns as he shifts his hips on the box. “We might…”

“Shit…” Shiro runs his clean hand through his hair, his eyes flickering around the room. “We could—“

“Chair.”

“What?” Following Keith’s pointed stare, Shiro glances over his shoulder. “Chair?” 

Keith nods and slides off the box. He presses his hands against Shiro’s chest to urge him backward. “Chair,” he confirms with a grin. 

It’s an old chair. Keith has been back here when Shiro has stood on it, balanced boxes on it, sat on it to contemplate why they have more or less of an item than they should have. It’s rickety, but sturdy and Keith is more than willing to bank on it’s reliability to alleviate the tension in his body. 

Shiro slowly lowers himself onto the seat. His eyes widen when Keith swings a leg over his lap to straddle his thighs. 

“Holy…” 

Keith smirks, dipping a hand behind him to reach Shiro’s cock. His fingertips brush up the length of it, making Shiro visibly shudder. 

“This is…” Shiro swallows hard. “We’ve never…”

“I don’t care,” Keith breathes as he gently presses down against the head, parting ever so slightly as a tease to bring a gasp from Shiro’s lips. “I want this.”

Shiro stares at him, braces one hand against his hips and lifts the other to caress his cheek. “How could I say no to you?” His smile is tender, but the heat in his eyes and the strength of the grip at Keith’s hips tells him he wants this too.

“You couldn’t,” Keith whispers before sinking down over Shiro’s cock.

* * *

 

“Wow, that was a long day.”

Keith looks up from the book in front of him when Shiro plops unceremoniously into the chair across from him. He can't fight the small smile that twitches at the corners of his lips. Shiro's hair is disheveled. Like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. 

_Probably has been_ , Keith thinks with a fond shake of his head. 

“I thought a steady flow of customers was a good thing,” he comments, flipping the cover of his book shut.

“Mm..” Shiro stretches one arm over his head as he places a mug on the tabletop with the other hand. He grins, a smile that still makes Keith’s stomach do an unfair, obnoxious somersault. “Never said I was complaining.”

Keith snorts softly and eyes the mug. “You made yourself coffee?” He notes the lack of an extra cup. One filled with iced coffee for himself. 

Not that he was _expecting_ it.

Shiro chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, made you coffee.” He gently pushes the mug across the table. “Iced coffee. Black. With a little bit of cream.” He pokes his tongue out between his teeth, teasing. 

Keith kicks him under the table. “Who puts iced coffee in a mug?” He grumbles as he drags the mug toward him. 

“Sorry, babe.” Shiro rubs his nape, sheepish, and offers an apologetic shrug. “Busy today, remember? We ran out of cups.” 

“What, Lance not keeping up with the dishes back there?” Keith takes a sip from the mug. It’s strange, drinking iced coffee out of a mug, but it still tastes the same. No one makes his coffee better than Shiro. 

“Well,” Shiro glances behind the counter. “Hunk went in back with Lance and—“

“ _Okay…_ ” Keith holds up a hand and grimaces. “I don’t need to know details.”

Shiro chuckles. “And they’re going to do inventory before the dishes.” 

“Inventory…” Keith mutters, taking another sip of coffee. He can’t help glancing toward the back room, expecting to see Lance waltz out, smirking and Hunk following, face red as a tomato. _Ugh… who uses back rooms for something so…_

He has to halt the thought because he still has the marks from the last time Shiro gave him a “backroom tour”. 

“Does it taste okay?” 

The question catches him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Uh…” He lifts the mug. “The.. coffee?”

Shiro nods.

 _Strange…_ Shiro has never once asked him how the coffee tastes. Not even on day one when Keith was a grump, when he snapped at him about his nickname, about his friends. When he was maybe reluctant to admit that the attraction was instant and the coffee was so good it made him come back again and again until he became more than just a customer in the cafe. 

Taking another big gulp of the coffee, he peers at Shiro over the lip of the mug. “Shiro.” He doesn’t miss the twist of Shiro’s lips. “Just say it.” 

Shiro is rarely reluctant to say what is on his mind. He’s been blunt since the day Keith met him. But he _knows_ Shiro. Knows his tells and his quirks. Knows that when he’s asking too many questions, when he’s insistent upon a particular, seemingly unimportant topic, that there is something else he wants to say. Something he isn’t sure how to phrase. Or something he might not want to say for fear of Keith’s reaction. 

Keith hopes it’s the former as he shifts in his seat and takes another sip of his coffee.

“You know,” Shiro finally begins, propping an arm on the table to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. “I’ve always gone after what I wanted.” 

Keith blinks. It’s not a statement he was expecting to hear, but he doesn’t comment. Shiro continues. 

“When dad passed and mom decided to move to Arizona, I stayed behind because I wanted to open Voltron.” Shiro’s eyes flicker around the cafe. 

Since Keith has been coming here, Shiro has collected a few more knick knacks to add to the walls and the tables. More signature items that make Keith think of Voltron. Of Shiro. He reaches out to lightly flick at a small, black lion figurine that stands in the center of the table.

“I really wanted to have a place that I could call home,” Shiro says, smiling fondly down at the little lion. “A place people could feel comfortable. A place I could use to pay the bills that would still make me happy.” 

Keith snorts. 

Shiro chuckles. “But mostly the home part.” He smiles at Keith this time and Keith busies himself with another sip of coffee as his heart leaps into his throat. Shiro’s smile still disarms him even after all this time. 

“It is,” Keith finally adds quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“A home,” Keith clarifies. “This place. It is like home.”

Shiro smiles softly. “It is, isn’t it?” He pauses, moving his prosthetic arm to the table. He rotates the metal wrist, flicking the tips of his fingers against the tabletop. “It brought Pidge and Matt to me.” He curls his fingers into his palm one by one. “If I didn’t know them, I wouldn’t have this. They were there after my motorcycle accident when they had to remove my arm because the damage was too great.” He clenches his fingers tighter. The metal groans softly. “They gave me this option and… I wanted to go for it despite the warning of the pain it would cause and the high probability of failure. So I did.” 

“Shiro…” Keith places his hand over Shiro’s right one. 

“Keith,” Shiro smiles, pulling Keith’s hand up to his lips. The warmth of his breath makes Keith shiver. “I went after you, too.” He presses a kiss to the tips of Keith’s fingers. “Because I knew I wanted you in my life from the moment I met you.”

Heat rushes to Keith’s cheeks and he curses the blush he knows has bloomed. “And you got me.” 

“I sure did,” Shiro replies with a soft smile. “But…” He reaches forward, grabbing the mug with the remains of Keith’s iced coffee. “I don’t have you in all the ways I want you.” 

Keith is monumentally glad that Lance and Hunk are in the back room right now. He can barely handle the way his heart tries to erratically beat out of his chest from the things Shiro says. He doesn’t think he could put up with the inevitable teasing remarks they would make too. 

“I’d say you’ve had me in plenty of ways.”

Shiro laughs, that genuine, booming sound that always makes Keith smile no matter what kind of mood he’s in. “That’s not what I meant and I think you know that.”

Keith huffs and tilts his face away. “Sure sounded like it.”

“Well,” Shiro lifts the mug to his lips and downs the rest of Keith’s coffee. “I think this will make you understand better.”

With a scowl, Keith grumbles, “What if I wasn’t done with that?” 

Keith’s breath catches in his throat when he finally sees the words etched inside the mug.

_Will you marry me?_

He doesn’t have the right words, or any for that matter. It might be his heart that leapt into his throat, blocking the words from coming out. Blocking the only answer he could ever give to this question. Because for Shiro, for _Takashi_ , he only has one answer.

“In all ways,” Shiro finally says. His lips twitch into a nervous smile when Keith finally looks up at him. “This is what I meant by all ways.”

The slight tremor to Shiro’s voice doesn’t escape Keith’s notice. The way Shiro curls and uncurls his fingers is an obvious, telltale sign that he’s afraid of the answer. Afraid that there’s a sliver of a possibility of rejection. 

Keith carefully places the mug back on the table and reaches out to grab Shiro’s hand. He squeezes and Shiro squeezes back. 

“Shiro…” Keith pushes himself out of his seat, moving around the table to stand before Shiro as he says, “I love you,” releasing Shiro’s hand to cup Shiro’s cheeks, pulling him forward. Shiro stands and leans his forehead against Keith’s. “Like I could say no to you.” 

“You couldn’t.” 

He only catches a brief second of the blinding grin that spreads across Shiro’s lips before they’re on his, insistent, burning. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, holding tight. A rush of air tickles his lips when Shiro sighs as he pulls back. 

“ _God…_ ” Shiro grins down at him. “I would’ve asked you… if you had said no, I would asked you as many times as it takes…”

Keith laughs. He can’t seem to stop smiling. “As many times as it takes.” 

“But you said yes,” Shiro breathes, pulling him in for another kiss. 

They’re interrupted by a loud woop from behind the counter. Keith tilts his head back, ready to scowl at Lance (because he _knows_ it’s Lance), but the smiles that greet him are difficult to frown at. Lance and Hunk beam at them as they make their way around the counter. Hunk comes up behind him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Lance slaps him on the back, the picture of genuine comradery. 

And Keith can’t help but grin back. 

“I told you he’d say yes!” Lance punches Shiro’s shoulder and laughs. “Can’t believe you were so nervous.”

Shiro smiles, that beautiful, sheepish smile that drew Keith in so long ago. “I was proposing,” he counters, pulling Keith against his side to playfully shove at Lance’s shoulder. “You try proposing and _not_ be nervous.”

Lance snorts. “I’m too _suave_ for nervousness.”

“Says the one who tripped over his own feet when he asked me to meet his extended family,” Hunk says with a teasing elbow jab to Lance’s side. 

Color tints Lance’s cheeks and he scowls, “Secrets, man! Some things are meant to be secrets.”

Hunk laughs, soft and low, before reaching out to give Shiro’s arm a squeeze. He glances at Keith and his smile softens. “In all seriousness though, I’m happy for the both of you. You deserve this.” His eyes flicker between the two of them. “You belong together.”

“Kind of like Cupid and Psyche.”

Keith blinks. They all fall silent and stare. At Lance. 

“Cupid and Psyche…” Hunk repeats, head cocked in confusion. “As in… the gods?”

Lance scowls. “Yeah, man. I like that stuff. Greek and Roman gods and all that. It’s cool.”

“What about Cupid and Psyche?” Keith asks, startling all of them. Much as everyone may believe, he doesn’t hate Lance. Lance has always rubbed him the wrong way, but he’s grown on him. He’s overwhelming, but trustworthy, caring. A true friend. And this little interest, unknown to all of them, intrigues him. 

Though Lance narrows his eyes in suspicion, he says, “Fine. Let me put it in simple terms for you simple folk.” Keith snorts and rolls his eyes as Lance continues, “They were destined to be together. Cupid was supposed to make her fall for someone else, but fell in love with her on sight.”

Shiro’s arm tightens around Keith’s shoulders as he smiles. 

“And she fell for him, but things got between them. Cupid’s mom, for one. And Cupid disappeared.” 

Keith pinches Shiro’s side. 

“And Psyche does everything she can to try and find him. She waits for him. Almost dies for him and Cupid still finds her in the end.” Lance shrugs. “Kinda like you two.” He shuffles his feet against the ground in a rare show of self-consciousness. “Guess I thought it fit.”

Hunk comes up behind him and places his hands on Lance’s shoulders.

“Lance,” Shiro says, smiling down at him. “It fits perfectly.”

Keith wrinkles his nose and fights back a laugh. “Cheesy.”

Shiro presses a kiss against his temple. “Only for you. Because you waited for me.”

With a soft sigh, Keith presses in against Shiro’s side. “I’d do it again too,” he says as he listens to Lance try to convince Hunk that they should be Greek gods for Halloween. “As many times as it takes.”

He feels Shiro’s smile against his when he nuzzles his nose in his hair. “As many times as it takes.”


End file.
